All Of My Tears Have Been Used Up (On Another Love)
by Neo.Natalie
Summary: In an alternative universe, omega Sherlock is under the control of his brutal alpha brother, Mycroft. In this universe, John Watson still hasn't recovered from his best friend's death. Will there be a happy ending for both of them?
1. Chapter 1

_Preface_

_His professor told them that they were still young and had so much to look forward to. Sherlock thought that they were young indeed, but wasting their youth studying useless things, listening to useless professors; professors who had given up on discovering the outside world for themselves, a long time ago. But without university, you didn't get a good job. And without a good job you got nowhere in this world. Sherlock had the spirit to change the world, but everything the world had to offer him was… spirits. Sometimes, all of the thoughts in his brain and the inability to put them into good use seemed to be unbearable without being drunk. And not even that seemed to help sometimes. Sherlock didn't get drunk easily, after all. _

_He didn't WANT to be all high-and-mighty and look down on people. But just when he saw a glimpse of hope for humanity, someone somewhere did something so incredibly stupid Sherlock wanted to hit his head against a wall. Hard. To forget, maybe. Or to punish himself on behalf of others. _

"_The victims of today are the offenders of tomorrow," his professor interrupted Sherlock's thoughts. Yes, and if you keep on talking, I'll be the 'offender' and you'd be to blame! But what would he do? Run amok? Then they would take him for one of the crazy ones who killed themselves and others because of unanswered love, a carrier gone awry, escalated violence... And he didn't CARE about these things. All he had ever wanted was to be himself and be left alone with it. For his sanity. For the others' sanity. _

_Sherlock knew his brother cared about him. But he didn't UNDERSTAND him. Sherlock hated wasting time. Not because time was money, but because he started to get itchy when he sat still for too long, doing nothing. His professor was numbing Sherlock's brain with all of his bullshit. Bullshit Sherlock had heard before, which was more. And fuck the students who tried to discuss with the professor; he wouldn't change his opinion, let alone his ways. He had been teaching for 30 years, after all. _

"_Fact is: Men like feminine women." Sherlock growled at that. Yes, sure, and if women wore jeans, they would go to hell... In which century did this professor live? Sherlock didn't care about make-up or dresses, big boobs or round asses. For him, a nice voice could be alluring, or a cheeky smile. Sure, he didn't even care if it was a man or a woman he was worshipping. And worshipping was all he had done so far, his social incompetence forcing him to stick to himself. _

_His brother would never understand this either. For him, looks were more important than anything else in a woman and reputation was everything. Sleeping with older women or – God forbid – men was completely out of the question. _

_Love could save Sherlock, maybe. Alcohol – and drugs, if he would ever try them – would only lead to destruction in the long term. Love, on the other hand, seemed to be a common concept of salvation, which even sometimes worked. If it didn't work, it had to be because of people's stupidity. Most of them went about it in the complete wrong way. You had to PLAN such life-changing aspects of your existence. You had to find the PERFECT partner. Not 'try out' one, then another, and then end up hurt and damaged, unable to lead a normal relationship ever again. _

_That's what Sherlock would keep in mind for his whole life: He had to find THE ONE. This was why he would stay a virgin, never trust anyone with his body and mind. And most importantly: Never trust anyone with his HEART. Until John came along. John, who was the perfect lid to his kettle. John, who distracted him with his jumpers and girlfriends. John, who told him so often that he was NOT gay that Sherlock never realized how perfectly they in fact fit together… not until it was too late. Because there was one thing the detective hadn't taken into consideration: Planning needed time – and in life, you never had enough of that. _


	2. Chapter 2

Rules Have To Be Obeyed

"Eat up now." "Yes, Sir," Sherlock said. He had given up on disobeying his older brother. The electric collar around his neck seemed to know even when he THOUGHT something wrong in front of Mycroft. And he had been punished before. Sherlock could endure quite a bit of pain, but the electric shocks the collar caused when Mycroft pushed a button on his wrist band cause pain beyond everything Sherlock could even think of. He had even BEGGED for it to stop once. Maybe it was good that his parents had not been alive to witness this. Even though Mycroft claimed that they would have approved of his way of educating his younger brother. But Sherlock couldn't remember how his parents had been like. He had deleted his memory in a desperate attempt to create more space for important information. Now there was no more important information. There was nothing in this world for him.

"Show me your arms," Mycroft commanded. His brother complied. The last time he had cut himself had been weeks ago. Punishment for hurting yourself was even harder than for refusing to eat. After he had finished his meal, Sherlock went back up into his flat. In the bathroom, he put his finger into his mouth and got rid of the calories which slowed his body down. His brother still had to find out about this trick. He had installed cameras all over the flat, but not in the bathroom, as Mycroft was very fond of 'decency'. In fact, he often told his younger brother how fortunate he was that he hadn't been raped yet. This also was a common punishment for misbehaving omegas. But Mycroft only used every other form of corporal and psychological punishment he could think of.

Sherlock snorted at that. Sooner or later he would (die) faint and then Mycroft would either have to watch him in the bathroom or give up on his form of "education". Sherlock lay down on his sofa, staring at the ceiling. When he had realized that there wasn't a way round learning an omega's duties, he had learnt them all in a fortnight. Now that he knew everything about cooking, sewing and child care which was humanly possible, he had all the time in the world until his brother would find a suitable alpha for him.

But Sherlock didn't care about free time any more. He just waited for the time to pass until he would finally be allowed to sleep. And then face another day. And another. And another. Maybe his alpha would be weak and it would be possible to escape from him. Maybe not. Sherlock had almost given up hope. Since their parents had died, Mycroft had been his legal guardian. And he had used his power ruthlessly. Coming "off age" hadn't helped either, even though Sherlock had managed to keep the inevitable off as long as possible. But at 21, his body had finally started to give off omega hormones and had almost driven Sherlock crazy for 5 days, 7 hours and 21 minutes. Since then, his heats had come regularly and had sometimes lasted even longer. Sherlock hated his body for betraying him like that. Almost as much as he hated the "toys" they had given him to easy the pain.

A knock on the door disturbed him in his thoughts. "Come in," Sherlock barked. He didn't want to risk a snidy remark and get punished for something that stupid. The door was pushed open and in came a man Sherlock had never seen before. He was gangly and a bit taller than average height, but his eyes were everything else than average. They were of a soft brown and Sherlock felt like he could fall right into them. Most omegas had beautiful eyes, but the younger Holmes had never seen such intensity in them.

Besides, the man didn't look like an omega. He had soft, full lips and brown, unruly hair, but he seemed to have purpose. His clothes also gave the impression more of an alpha than of an omega: He was wearing a long brown coat over a blue suit, complete with white shirt, red tie… and red sneakers. No omega would be allowed to wear those shoes to such an outfit! But then alphas usually were very aware of fashion… There was always the possibly of a beta, but the way this man moved…

"Hey there," the man said, "you don't know where I can find Mycroft Holmes, can you?" Sherlock snorted. He had come to see his brother, of course. "It's just because," the man went on, "I have a bone to pick with this guy. I don't like the way he treats people. In fact" - at this the man looked up and right into the eye of the nearest camera - "if I see him 'punish' another omega within the next 24 hours, I will make sure that he knows what the word punishment really means."

Sherlock could only stare at him. "Who are you?" "I am the Doctor." "Doctor Who?" "The very same," the Doctor said and smiled at Sherlock, "and I came here to take you away from here. " "Where to?" "Does that really matter?, " the Doctor asked with a frown. "No, I suppose not. But if there are alphas wherever you are taking me, you can spare yourself the trouble and leave me here," Sherlock explained. "Fine then," the Doctor said, "I'll take you somewhere where there are neither alphas nor omegas. You're coming now?" "What are you?, " Sherlock asked, "Some crazy alpha who wants to have me for himself without my brother's permission? Mycroft will never let this happen. "

The Doctor's gaze suddenly became soft. "Oh I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. You really don't know anything else, do you? But I'm not like you and I'm not like him. I'm from far, far away, and I know a place where all humans are equal - well, almost equal. And I will certainly not ask your brother for permission to take you there. " Sherlock, who was still trying to deduce anything from the Doctor's appearance, said: "Well, you will have to; otherwise we will not get rid of this." He motioned at his collar.

The Doctor smiled again and his eyes where gleaming with mischief. He put something out of his pocket which looked remotely like a screwdriver, moved closer to Sherlock and held the device in front of the collar. The screwdriver-thing made a buzzing sound; the collar opened and fell onto the sofa. Sherlock held his breath, but nothing happened for an entire minute. There was no pain and if he could get out of here alive there never would be again.

He looked at the Doctor in amazement, feeling something like hope for the first time in years. "Can you break the cameras with this as well?" "Of course," the Doctor said, doing so with all of the cameras in the two-room apartment, finding every one without fail. However, loud footsteps and voices on the stairs soon put a damper on Sherlock's new found hope. "They are coming," he said, his eyes going wide with fear.

"Don't worry," the Doctor assured him, "I have fought off worse than a few alpha guards. But then we could just leave through the window, of course." "We are on the third floor!," Sherlock shouted, close to panic, "Do I look like Marry Poppins to you?" "Nice thought, we could borrow your brother's umbrella," the Doctor remarked, "but it's even easier. I've parked the Tardis directly under the window. With the open door facing up. God, will she complain tomorrow."

Sherlock stared at him, not understanding a word coming out of the Doctor's mouth. "You have parked what how?" The Doctor chuckled and opened the window next to Sherlock's sofa. "You will see, come on." Sherlock hesitantly got up and looked out of the window. Directly under him, there was the gaping door of a… blue box. He frowned and remarked: "Even if we survive the fall, how on earth should this stupid little box help us?"

"Oi, don't let her hear that!," the Doctor said. The steps and voices were coming closer. "Come on, just jump," the Doctor said, "It will be fine, you will see. Just trust me!" Sherlock certainly didn't trust this strange man with the beautiful eyes, but he imagined dying in a little blue box after jumping from the third floor couldn't be worse than Mycroft's punishment for removing the collar. The moment the door was thrown open, he jumped.


	3. Chapter 3

Note:

Sorry for the ton of scientific stuff in this chapter (yes, you can skip it if you want). As I'm not as smart as Sherlock and/or the Doctor, I stole most of it from this page:  . . It's a lovely page, actually. ^^ Oh and don't look at the Wikipedia article about time travel, it makes you rather more confused than less!

New Worlds

Sherlock landed in the box the Doctor had called 'Tardis' with a loud splash. But Sherlock being Sherlock, he was only confused for the fracture of a second. He had landed in water and his feet didn't touch the ground, which meant he was in some sort of pool. A pool in a box. Sherlock tread water and quickly reached the surface, spitting water. What he saw was fascinating, to say the least. The outside of this box was obviously some sort of optical illusion as it was actually quite big.

The Doctor, who had landed next to him, was already climbing out of the pool. The door of the box had closed again. Some sort of automatic mechanism, probably. But Sherlock decided to look into that later. Something else was more important right now: "Is there some sort of transport here… Doctor?"

The Doctor chuckled. "This IS the transport, Sherlock."

Sherlock frowned and looked around, taking in every detail. In this room there was basically just the swimming pool, but next to the door leading outside there was another door. But the architecture seemed somehow wrong… more like the architecture of a building than of something which could move. Certainly not a plane. Could it be…?

"You have a pool in a space ship? Isn't that a bit impractical? Where does the water go when you are in space? Or do you only use it when it's stationary?"

The Doctor, who was standing next to the pool now, drying himself up with a blanket, chuckled again: "It is a space sip, alright, but otherwise it's a bit more complicated than you think. But no time for explanations right now. We have to get going, allons-y!"

With that, the Doctor dropped the blanket and dashed out of the second door Sherlock had noticed. Sherlock got out of the pool, trying to process the information. So they were in a space ship? But wouldn't they need space suits then? Or could the Tardis produce an artificial gravity field? But this didn't make any sense… Then again, the Doctor had talked about a place where everyone was 'equal', whatever that meant. Could it be that he had meant… on another planet? That seemed to be logical as Sherlock was pretty sure that he knew everything which was going on on THIS planet. But then he couldn't be completely sure, as his brain was filled up with information about baking and cooking...

Sherlock's thoughts were interrupted by a sudden movement of the space ship, which almost swiped him off his feet and back into the pool. At the last moment, Sherlock grabbed the handle of the door… which was strange, because he could have sworn that the door didn't HAVE a handle just a moment ago!

But before Sherlock could solve this mystery, the Doctor peeked out of the other door and said: "Sorry about that. Are you coming?"

"Yes, sure," Sherlock mumbled and carefully balanced over to the Doctor as the space ship started moving in earnest, "Where are we going?"

"Parallel universe, same planet, same time."

Sherlock frowned at that. "Of course same time, what do you mean?"

"Oh, the Tardis can also travel in time, you know."

"You can't travel in time," Sherlock exclaimed.

"Who told you that?", the Doctor asked.

"Everyone knows that," Sherlock answered, but he wasn't happy with this answer himself, so he added: "If you could travel in time, you would change the present and as most humans are basically idiots, they would create massive chaos."

The Doctor nodded. "That's true. So no, not EVERYBODY can travel in time. You need a Tardis for that or some other device. And only Time Lords are able to use those devices, as I am one. And they know how NOT to create chaos."

"But they still would," Sherlock said, "Every little thing you change in the past changes the present! Calling yourself 'Time Lord' certainly doesn't change that."

"No, there are certain rules, of course, otherwise you would create a paradox," the Doctor explained, "you are not supposed to meet yourself in the past, for example. And there are fixed points in time, of course, like world wars, deaths of important people etc. But everything else is flexible, as time itself it flexible. If you kill your grandmother, for example, it creates another possibility. You father could have grown up an orphan, or simply been older or someone else. Of course, it could also mean you have never been born, so you would simply... vanish. So I don't recommend killing your ancestors."

"But you still can't travel through time, as it would mean traveling close to the speed of light", Sherlock said and entered the room the Doctor was standing in. It looked like it was the control room. Slowly, all the information buried deep in Sherlock's mind palace, under all the rubbish about changing diapers and stuff, became accessible again. "The closer you get to the speed of time, the more time slows down. And you can't go faster if time slows down until it finally stops!"

"Yes, you can," the Doctor explained, "You just have to look at the extension of Pythagorean theorem for the distance, d, between two points in space: d² = x² + y² + z². x, y and z are the lengths, or more correctly the difference in the co-ordinates, in each of the three spatial directions. This distance remains constant for fixed displacements of the origin.

In Einstein's relativity the same equation is modified to remain constant with respect to displacement (and rotation), but not with respect to motion. For a moving object, at least one of the lengths from which the distance, d, is calculated is contracted relative to a stationary observer. So the equation becomes:

d² = x² + y² + z² (1-v²/c²)1/2

And this implies that the distances all shrink as one moves faster, so does this mean there are no constant distances left in the universe? Of course there are! Because of Einstein's revolutionary concept of space-time where time is distance and distance is time! So now:

s² = x² + y² + z² - ct²

And this new distance s – the Space-time – does indeed remain constant for all who are in relative motion."

Sherlock could only stare at the Doctor. "This actually makes sense. But you said something about a parallel universe. What about that?"

"Well," the Doctor said, "if you see time as moving forward and backward, parallel universes are to the left and to the right. They are basically the same as your time and space, but with slight changes. Which can be big changes for you. It's all a bit wibbly-wobbly, really. Usually, the Tardis can't move 'sideways' as this would take aspects from one parallel universe to the other, but sometimes there are holes in the universe, which repair themselves if they are small enough. But I thought, as I'm already here, I could take you back with me. And the Tardis needed some time to regain energy anyway, so..."

Sherlock didn't understand exactly what the Doctor meant by wibbly-wobbly, but took it to mean something like 'not yet explained by scientists'. "So the hole will close behind us, won't it?"

"Yes," the Doctor said, "but we should find a place for you in the other universe for you. There are so many humans that they sometimes loose count themselves."

Sherlock smiled at that. "Don't you pity them as well, sometimes?", he asked, "they should be so BORED with their funny little brains."

"Pity them?", the Doctor asked, "No, I envy them. They are happy in their little worlds. It's us whom I pity."


End file.
